


Sweethearts

by musette22



Series: Tumblr prompts [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but like actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22977517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musette22/pseuds/musette22
Summary: Steve is so busy cursing the heavens that he almost fails to notice the motorcar that turns around the corner, but he manages to jump out of the way just in time. His shoulder bumps against a shop window, and that’s when something colorful catches his eye.He’s looking at the window of a candy story, or at a jar filled to the brim with candy hearts, to be precise. Sweethearts, they’re called now: little multicolored pieces of candy that each have a word stamped into them.On a whim, Steve pushes open the door to the shop and steps inside.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Tumblr prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652257
Comments: 40
Kudos: 234





	Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

> A little prewar Stucky for you all, based on the following Tumblr prompt: Can you write a stucky or evanstan fic where steve/chris finally confessed his feelings to bucky/sebastian using the hearts candy, pretty please?
> 
> A/N: Apparently these sweets have existed since the late nineteenth-century, and - fun fact - at some point they were being produced by the Stark Candy Company!

Steven Grant Rogers has never really needed much of a reason to get into a fight. Today, though, he’s in an extra foul mood and he’s just itching for some action.

He _promised_ himself he would tell Bucky how he felt. Promised himself he would do it on Bucky’s birthday, when he had some Dutch courage in his system and Bucky would be in good spirits and hopefully less likely to punch him in the face if he didn’t like what Steve had to say. But Bucky’s birthday came and went, and once again, Steve had failed to get the words out.

Apparently the bullies were right after all: he _is_ a wimp, and a coward to boot.

He’s been stewing over his failure ever since he opened his eyes this morning, getting more and more worked up as the day went on. So when he’s on his way home after a shift at the newspaper and a burly, greasy guy across the street catcalls a dame who’s walking by herself, Steve’s hackles are up even faster than usual.

“Hey, asshole,” Steve calls, his voice ringing out loud and clear in the quiet street. “Didn’t your ma ever teach you any manners?”

He gets the shit kicked out of him, of course – no surprises there. Steve gets in a few good punches too, because he’s feeling amped up and punching assholes has always been his favorite way to let off steam. But at the end of the day, the guy is twice his size and three times as strong, and it’s only because he gets bored with the lack of competition and walks off at some point that Steve escapes the scuffle with ‘just’ a shiner and a few bruised ribs.

Oh, and a mood even fouler than before.

He fumes quietly as he walks the last few blocks home, angrily kicking an empty can out of the way and blowing his tousled bangs out of his eyes. _Damn it._ _Damn it all to hell_. He’s so busy cursing the heavens that he almost fails to notice the motorcar that turns around the corner, but he manages to jump out of the way just in time. His shoulder bumps against a shop window, and that’s when something colorful catches his eye.

He’s looking at the window of a candy story, or at a jar filled to the brim with candy hearts, to be precise. _Sweethearts_ , they’re called now: little multicolored pieces of candy that each have a word stamped into them.

On a whim, Steve pushes open the door to the shop and steps inside. He’s greeted by the jangle of the doorbell and a wary look from the proprietor, who eyes Steve’s black eye with mistrust but who sells him a small bag of Sweethearts nonetheless. Business is business, after all. Although Steve is well aware that he shouldn’t be spending the money he just made with his extra shift on candy, and this is clearly a stupid plan anyway, he is kind of desperate at this point, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

The hearts burn a hole in his pocket as he makes his way back to the apartment. It’s like they’re taunting him, whispering to him that _he’s not gonna do it_ , he’s too much of a chicken to tell Bucky how he feels. Too gutless to tell him that he’s loved him since the day they met, even if he only later realized he was _in love_ with him. It took Steve a while to work up to the decision that he should tell Bucky about that inconvenient but undeniable truth, which has fueled and consumed him in equal measure ever since it presented itself.

It took him six years, to be precise.

Six years in which Steve pretended he loved Bucky like one friend loves another, pretended he wasn’t looking at Bucky’s mouth and wondering what it would feel like against his own. Six years in which Steve called Bucky a jerk instead of all the other, much tenderer things that were always on the tip of his tongue.

But now, with war raging in Europe and people risking their lives for their own and other’s freedom, Steve could no longer stomach the idea that he wasn’t even be brave enough to tell his best friend that he loved him. And in his heart of hearts, Steve knows it doesn’t even matter. He knows he’ll love Bucky until they’re both old and grey, regardless of whether Bucky feels the same way in return.

But maybe, just _maybe_ there is a chance that he does. And maybe today might be the day that Steve’s going to find out.

As he trudges up the stairs and opens the door to their apartment, Steve’s hopes of getting to freshen up a little to hide the worst of the damage before Bucky gets home are dashed when he hears someone whistling the latest Glenn Miller tune from inside.

Shit. Steve is usually home before Bucky, but then he usually doesn’t get into fights on his way home (well, not _every_ day, at least). He sighs, squaring himself up for the reprimand Bucky is no doubt going to give him when he notices the state Steve is in.

As soon as he steps through the door, Bucky turns around from where he’s standing by the sink, holding a glass of milk. He’s in his work pants still, but he’s taken off his jacket, leaving him in just his undershirt and suspenders. Unthinkingly, Steve’s eyes linger on the curve of Bucky’s biceps, taking in the way the shirt is sticking to his stomach with sweat, even though it’s only March. When he finally lifts his gaze to Bucky’s face, though, Steve feels his stomach drop. Bucky’s brow is furrowed, his lips turned down into an unhappy frown.

“For pity’s sake, Steve…” Bucky sighs, sounding infinitely weary. “You really can’t go one week without gettin’ into a fight? What was it this time, somebody breathe in your direction?”

Steve bristles at the implication that it must have been him who started it, even though it had in fact – depending on how you looked at it – been him who started it.

“This _asshole_ was harassing a dame all on her own,” Steve huffs. “What was I supposed to have done, just keep walking?”

“Was he attacking her?”

“No,” Steve replies, frowning. “He catcalled her, but–”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky rolls his eyes, running a hand through his chestnut hair, wavy again now that the cream he put in it this morning has evaporated with a day’s hard work at the docks. “We’ve been over this. There’s always going to be assholes out there, you know that. You can’t fight ‘em all, pal.”

“Yes, I _can_ ,” Steve counters, unconsciously pushing out his chin a little. “And I will.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. “I swear, Steve, sometimes I think you got a death wish. What am I gonna do with your stubborn ass?”

A slightly manic giggle escapes Steve at that, because he’s got one or two idea ideas for what Bucky could to with his ass. The sound must rub Bucky the wrong way, however, because he raises his eyebrows, eyes going comically wide.

“Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” he asks, then draws himself up to his full height before proceeding to lecture Steve on what are and what aren’t valid reasons to start a fight.

Having heard this spiel countless times before, Steve mulishly tunes Bucky out and instead starts digging around in the pocket of his ragged coat for the little paper bag. His heart starts beating faster as he pulls it out and opens it, but he ignores it, just as he ignores the little voice in the back of his head screeching at him to _abort, abort, abort_. He’s not getting cold feet this time – it’s now or never.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky huffs impatiently, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Steve doesn’t bother replying because he figures it’s pretty clear he isn’t listening, and instead peers inside the bag, trying to find the one he needs.

 _Ah_. There.

Finally looking back up at Bucky, Steve holds out his hand. There, in his palm, lies a pink little heart.

Bucky’s eyes drop to Steve’s outstretched hand. “What’s this?”

Instead of answering, Steve just keeps looking at him, silently willing Bucky to just get the hint already and take the piece of candy.

Bucky peers down at Steve’s hand, uncomprehending. Then, suddenly, he goes still. He blinks a few times, fast, mouth opening and closing as if he’s going to say something. He doesn’t, but he does reach out slowly, picking up the pink heart from Steve’s palm and then staring at it some more from close up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Bucky lift his head again, his eyes finding Steve’s. “Steve? What’s this?”

And because he can’t help himself and also he’s about to keel over just from sheer nerves, Steve snaps, "Sorry, I forgot you couldn't read."

When Bucky doesn’t respond, just keeps standing there with his mouth hanging open like a fish on land, Steve slowly starts to feel very stupid, and very, very vulnerable. He’s unable to stop the heat rising up in his cheeks, a blush spreading like a wildfire from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest.

And that, seeing Steve shrinking in on himself, that must be what makes Bucky finally understand. Because from one moment to the next, Bucky’s face transforms, his expression melting into something soft and so mushy it makes Steve’s heart ache.

“Stevie…” Bucky breathes, not taking his eyes off Steve. “This says –” His stops, licking his lips before he continues. “This says ‘I love you’.”

Steve nods, slowly, and asks, “Is that okay?”

Because apparently he is still a dumbass, even if he now isn’t quite so much of a coward anymore.

Bucky’s face melts a little further. Steve would’ve thought he looked stupid, if he wasn’t so gone on him. “Are you- Do you mean it?” His voice is barely more than a whisper at this point, as if he’s afraid to break whatever this thing is that’s slowly taking shape between them.

Steve inhales deeply to steady his nerves, his knees feeling worryingly shaky all of a sudden. “I do, Buck.”

Bucky makes a little sound then, something between a sigh and a laugh; incredulous, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Bolstered by Bucky’s reaction, Steve gets an idea and starts rooting around in the bag again for another heart.

When he finds the one he needs, a yellow one this time, he holds it out to Bucky, not breaking eye contact until Bucky’s gaze dips down to the offering. This time when he sees it, he barks out a laugh, unrestrained and joyous.

 _Kiss me_ , the heart says.

Steve watches Bucky pop both the hearts in his mouth, before he bridges the distance between them in two long strides. He takes Steve’s face between his large hands, his touch surprisingly gentle, and leans down, softly pressing his lips to Steve’s.

For a moment, Steve lets himself be kissed – until he recovers from the shock, and then he gives back as good as he gets. He stands up on his tip toes and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling him closer, always closer.

By the end of the kiss, Steve has a heart, too.

Bucky tips back his head just a little, looking down at him through his lashes, his lovely slate-blue eyes a few shades darker than they were before. Steve is breathless, both from the kiss and from Bucky’s beauty, which he’s finally able to appreciate openly now, for the first time since he realized the way his heart tripped at the sight of it meant _love_.

Leaning in again, Bucky gently brushes his lips over Steve’s as he whispers, “I’m sweet on you too, pal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and shout with me about these two on [Tumblr](https://musette22.tumblr.com/) if you want!


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